


24k

by quillsolo



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Zombies, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Slow Burn, Sugar Daddy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-20
Updated: 2017-04-21
Packaged: 2018-10-21 05:14:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10678419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quillsolo/pseuds/quillsolo
Summary: Things have been rough on Rick ever since Lori died, and it hasn't been made any easier by how everyone has been treating him as something damaged and treading on eggshells around him.  His kids are both healthy and happy, and he works at a high-end restaurant instead of getting shot at for a living, having given up his job as a police officer.  Everything is perfect or at least it should be.  In truth, Rick is bored, and looking for any glimmer of excitement in his life of waiting tables and PTA meetings.  He finds it, or something close to it, if excitement equates to waiting on an obnoxious, presumptuous asshole who somehow worms his way into his life and shakes up the carefully constructed Jenga tower of his humdrum existence.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I haven't written fanfic in a thousand years, but this idea grabbed me and didn't let go because hello, sugar daddy Negan?? Sign me the fuck up. Special thanks to all my lovely friends in the Regan discord server who encouraged me every step of the way to get this fic going. It's probably going to go on for quite a few chapters because this first chapter turned into over 2000 words without my realizing it lmao so yeah, I hope y'all enjoy it!

Rick's alarm went off way too early, just like it did every day. He fumbled blindly to turn it off, laying back with a groan and rubbing his eyes tiredly. He let his arms fall back to his sides, staring blankly up at the ceiling for a long moment, appreciating the scant time he had before he had to go and rouse his children for school.

Routine had become Rick's middle name during the last few years, something that was inevitable when it was up to you to hold your family together after your wife is suddenly taken from you. It had been a disorienting whirlwind of emotions, the excitement of expecting their daughter giving way to the crushing knowledge that Lori wouldn’t survive having Judith. They had thought they had their whole lives together, and it never entered his mind he would have to go through so much of what they had planned by himself.

Being left alone with a teenager and a newborn had been rough, Rick having thought he'd always have her to rely on. She had always told him he was strong, but the truth was, a lot of his inner strength came from her, leaving him feeling lost without her for longer than he cared to admit. It was like he had been hollowed out after her death, Rick appearing to function on the outside, but inside feeling empty, especially every night after the kids were in bed and he was left to sleep alone in his and Lori’s bed that felt too big and empty now. He kept to his same side of the bed even after, clinging to the vain hope that one day he might wake up from this awful nightmare and she’d be right there again. It hadn’t worked yet.

He never fully bounced back on the romantic front, having kept to himself and concerned himself only with his children. He adored them, of course, and honestly they had been a huge part of his recovery process. He’d see bits of Lori in them every day, and he would smile just a little wider whenever he saw Carl scoff at him like she used to, or when Judith smiled at him in a way that was a perfect imitation of her mother. With the kids and work, when would he even have time to entertain the idea of going on a date anyway?

His work life had changed as well, he and Lori having rethought his career choice of police officer after he had gotten shot and been in a coma. When he’d woken up, they had had many long discussions during his recovery, wherein they had came to the mutual conclusion that he couldn’t keep putting his life on the line like that. He had quit his job at the station with the idea that he would get something safer, something that didn’t put him at such risk. It felt like an unnecessarily cruel twist of fate to lose Lori after they had taken such a precaution, one that was supposed to make sure they were both safe and would be able to be there for their children and each other.

When he was back on his feet after his brush with mortality, he had found a job in thanks to a family friend at Irma’s, the local high-end restaurant. Dale Horvath owned the place, and Rick had gotten to know him and the staff pretty well when Rick had helped assist in investigating a robbery that had occurred there during his time in the police force. He was actually the one who had arrested the man responsible, and Dale had made it clear that he would do whatever he could for Rick in return (despite Rick’s deeming it unnecessary), from free meals to a job when he needed a career change. Rick was eternally grateful for how generous Dale was to him, having taken his family for meals every so often. Dale outright refused him whenever he tried to pay, but Rick always made sure to leave a generous tip for the server.

Working at the restaurant had been an integral step in resocializing Rick after Lori died, the people there becoming like a second family in the time he’d worked there. Dale ran a tight ship and happened to be an impeccable judge of character, only ever hiring people who passed his somewhat unorthodox interview process. He asked the standard fare about work history, but he also threw in random personal questions, some that seemed to have no bearing on whether you could wait tables or not. 

Rick had insisted he get interviewed for the job just like everyone else, despite Dale telling him the job was already his. Dale had gone through the standard questions, but then asked Rick what he would pick out of a bowl of halloween candy. Rick was momentarily perplexed at the question, but quickly answered that he often would snatch a milky way or two from the kid’s trick or treat bags during Halloween. The answer seemed to be satisfactory to Dale, leading Rick to wonder what on Earth Dale could have possibly gleaned from something so innocuous. Rick and the rest of the staff often joked that Dale had mystical powers, like he could read your entire character based on the most seemingly insignificant details about you.

However it was that Dale hired people, Rick couldn’t help but be grateful that he had managed to gather such a great and cohesive group of people. Everyone seemed to get along for the most part, and whenever there were spats, it was always worked out easily with no hard feelings after. Rick really appreciated how close-knit everyone was, and indeed had found a place himself in the pseudo family unit.

Rick was grateful for the flexibility of his schedule there as well, him often working days during the week to free him up in the evenings to spend time with his kids. He worked weekends on occasion too, though he was lucky enough to have his neighbor Carol around to watch the kids while he did. She adored Carl and Judith, and her daughter Sophia was around Carl’s age, so it worked out well for everyone.

Most everything was in place in his life, apart from one big empty space where Lori used to be. Despite that, he still waved off any attempts his friends had to set him up on dates, not wanting to complicate things when they finally felt somewhat stable. Though, the problem with stable was that it was often predictable, and, well, pretty boring at times. He wasn’t entirely unsatisfied in his life, he loved his kids and his job, but he couldn’t help a part of him that longed for a little excitement now and then. Longed for someone to make him laugh and stoke the embers of the long since doused spark of adventure inside him. He used to have Lori and his career for that, but now, everything was safe and quiet and mundane, which was great, but also, yeah, boring.

He stretched out over the bed before finally tapping into his willpower enough to sit up, sliding off the bed and padding across the floor to take a shower. He took an extra few minutes than normal, letting the hot water soothe his muscles as he slowly got clean. He finished the rest of his morning routine, getting dressed and heading to Judith’s bedroom.

He opened the door to her room, breaking into a grin when she was already awake and bouncing excitedly in her crib, gripping the bars and at the ready to be picked up.

“I don’t know where you got being a morning person, because it definitely wasn’t from me,” he remarked as he hefted the toddler from her crib, cradling her close as she wrapped her arms around his neck. He carried her from the room, making his way down the hallway to knock on Carl’s door.

“What’ll get you out of bed?” Rick asked, probing for what he wanted for breakfast.

“Pancakes,” came the muffled reply from his son’s room.

“Alright, be downstairs in ten minutes or Judith is gonna be your wake-up call,” he warned.

“I’m up, I’m up!” came Carl’s reply, Rick chuckling to himself, Judith imitating him with her own tiny giggle.

He made his way downstairs, setting Judith up in her high chair with some toys before grabbing the pancake mix and setting to work on breakfast. He created a sizable stack for himself and the kids, hearing the telltale steps of his son joining them in the kitchen.

“I’m here, no need to sick the toddler on me,” Carl said through a yawn, leaning down to kiss the top of Judith’s head on his way to the fridge.

“You’re not safe yet, you still have to set the table,” Rick replied with a smirk, setting the pancakes out on the table. Carl rolled his eyes, but did as he was asked.

They all sat down to breakfast, Rick slicing some bananas for their pancakes as they began eating. “So, how do you feel about your test today?” Rick asked, cutting up Judith’s pancakes for her as he glanced up at Carl.

“I’m good, I think I got the hang of it when you helped me study last night,” Carl answered, tossing his unruly hair out of his eyes.

“Good, because it’s review time,” Rick said nonchalantly, raising his eyebrows at Carl as if begging for him to argue.

“Oh, come on, Dad,” Carl groused, “I know it, I swear!”

“Mmhmm,” Rick hummed, undeterred as he chewed thoughtfully. “What are complementary angles?”

Carl sighed pointedly, but acquiesced anyway. “Angles that add up to 90 degrees.”

Breakfast concluded without major incident, Rick picking Judith up out of her chair to get her ready as Carl tidied up the kitchen. Rick dropped Carl off at school, two blocks away per his request, because apparently even being seen with one’s father these days was a huge social faux pas. Rick did keep an eye on him for a few minutes, smirking when he saw him meet up with Enid, the girl Carl had a huge crush on. He hadn’t told Rick this, but he could tell, because Carl acted the same way around her as he used to act with Lori. Even Rick could see that, even though he was only allowed within a few hundred feet of the two of them per Carl’s directive.

Up next was dropping off Judith at daycare, his little girl squirming in excitement when she saw Beth, the young blonde who worked there. He passed her off with a smile, always glad when Beth was there because Judith loved her and Rick knew her family quite well. Beth’s sister, Maggie, was married to one of his best friends at the restaurant, a fellow server named Glenn. The two of them were expecting their first child, and Glenn had asked Rick about every question about parenting he could during whatever spare minutes they had while they worked together. Their entire family was great, and Rick felt quite lucky to have so many people in his life he trusted completely.

“My kids just can’t wait to get away from me today,” Rick joked with a half smile, kissing Judith’s temple after he passed her off.

“Oh, Rick, it’s not like that,” Beth replied, sanguine as ever. “She’s just excited for fingerpainting today, right?” she asked Judith, who nodded enthusiastically.

“Thanks, Beth. You two have fun,” he replied, rubbing his daughter’s head affectionately.

“Have a nice day, Rick. And hey, tell Glenn to relax when you see him today, okay? He’s driving Maggie crazy with all his worrying about the baby. Even my dad said he’s wound too tight,” Beth said, holding Judith at her side and offering a small wave.

Rick laughed with a shake of his head, knowing all too well how keyed up Glenn was. “Will do.”

He made the short drive to work, smirking when he saw the police car in the parking lot which he knew belonged to Shane. Shane was his partner when he was on the force, and had begged and pleaded for Rick to change his mind about leaving. In truth, Shane had been one of the hardest things about leaving to accept, being that they were so close, to the point of calling each other brother. It had worked out in the end, because Shane often stopped by the restaurant for a post-patrol drink, on top of being a hell of a host for barbeques, so they remained quite close even now. Shane had been there for him when he needed him most, hearing Rick out even at his darkest times after Lori passed. He and Shane had their spats now and then, but he owed him more than even Shane probably knew.

Rick walked in several minutes before his shift started, going immediately to the bar to take a seat next to Shane.

“Starting early today, huh?” Rick teased, raising his eyebrows with a small grin at his old partner.

“Early?” Shane scoffed, “Nah, I just got off from patrolling all night. This is my nightcap,” he answered, taking a generous sip of his scotch. “How are you doing, brother?”

“Good, yeah, things are good, actually,” Rick replied, putting on his ‘I’m totally fine’ face for probably the zillionth time since he lost Lori. Shane looked unconvinced, but nodded anyway.

“Great,” Shane replied mildly, Rick feeling eternally grateful that Shane didn’t press it. He wasn’t really in the mood to get into anything deeper than surface pleasantries right this second, as well as not having the time for it before his shift started. “We still on for Saturday? We can watch the game and cookout,” Shane asked, Rick giving a nod and knowing that was when Shane was going to do his real check-in on how Rick was faring.

“Absolutely, yeah,” Rick answered, standing and patting Shane on the shoulder. “Sorry, I gotta get to work.”

“No problem, I’ll be around,” Shane replied, raising his glass to him as Rick moved to go to the back and prepare for his shift. He stood in the hallway to tie his tie, Glenn popping around the corner and making a beeline for him when he saw him.

“Rick, hey!” Glenn started, “I wanted to ask-”

“Glenn, look. You know I’m happy to help, but I wanted to let you know that you’re driving Maggie nuts with all this worrying, you know. You two will be great, and so will the baby,” Rick assured him, smiling encouragingly at him. Glenn puffed a heavy sigh and nodded.

“Yeah, I know. You’re right, you’re totally right. I’m just, I want it all to be perfect, you know?”

“Well, I can say with confidence it’s not going to be perfect, but it’ll be great. And hey, I’ll bring you my whole stack of parenting books tomorrow if that’ll make you a little less...excitable. Okay?” Rick said, finishing up straightening his tie in the mirror.

“That’d be awesome, Rick,” Glenn replied with a wide grin. “You’re the best, I don’t know what I’d do without you apart from driving my wife up the wall.”

Rick laughed and patted his shoulder reassuringly, glancing up when Andrea, the hostess showed up. “Hey, Rick. How are you?” she asked, playing at being casual but Rick knew too well she was probing in regards to his mental status that day.

“I’m good, Andrea. Really,” Rick replied earnestly.

“Good, good, that means you can stop goofing off with Glenn and get to work, huh?” she joked, earning a small grateful smile from Rick that she followed Shane’s example and didn’t press him. “So you’ve got three at 27 and one at 31.”

“Alright, thanks. I’m on it,” Rick answered, Andrea and Glenn both leaving him to go attend to their own duties.

He took a last glance in the mirror, taking a deep breath and putting on his waiter persona, grateful for the chance to concentrate on something besides his own grief for a while.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They actually meet in this chapter! ✨ It goes about as well as you'd think, this chapter subtitle would be 'the one where Negan is A Lot and Rick is entirely too paranoid'.

Rick made his way first to table 27 with a basket of bread and a pitcher of water, smiling to himself when he recognized the patrons immediately.

“Hey, you,” Rick said as he approached, rewarded with a bright grin of recognition from the woman seated there.

“Rick! Hi,” Michonne greeted, standing to give him a brief hug. Rick and Michonne had worked together a lot during his time as a police officer, Michonne being a prominent prosecuting attorney in his district. She had been instrumental in helping him lock up plenty of criminals, having been nicknamed the warrior queen in the courtroom, due to the tough and ruthless code of honor she stuck to. She was extremely shrewd and smart as a whip, and Rick respected her immensely.

“How are you doing?” Michonne asked, Rick smiling politely as he swallowed the jab of discomfort at the subtext of being asked how he was, the words ‘since your wife died’ hanging in their air between them like it always did when he was asked that seemingly innocuous question.

“I’m great,” Rick answered with practiced ease, reaching out to shake her husband Mike’s hand after the hug broke and she took her seat. “How about you all? Mike, Andre, how are things?” he asked, pouring each of them out some water in the glasses that were already set out on the table.

“Mom made partner!” Andre answered excitably, Michonne chuckling and nodding with a modest shrug.

“I did. We’re celebrating,” Michonne added, Mike smiling proudly at her.

“We always knew she was amazing, she’s just finally being recognized by the rest of the world,” Mike said, reaching over to squeeze her hand, Rick steadfastly ignoring a pang of longing at the sight and masking it with a grin.

“That’s incredible, congratulations!” Rick said genuinely, giving her a friendly squeeze to her shoulder.

“Thank you guys,” Michonne replied, her often impassive and stern features alight with joy.

Rick took their drink orders, assuring them he’d be right back with them before moving to get some more bread and go check on his next table. He didn’t recognize the patron at his other table this time, and his waiter sense told him immediately that he probably wasn’t going to like him very much.

Rick knew well enough that this restaurant catered to people of a certain status, high-powered lawyers like Michonne, doctors, and businessmen being their primary clientele. This man was definitely the latter, his suit and slicked-back hair just screaming ‘hello i’m a douchey rich guy who’s going to stiff you because i’m a selfish asshole’ to Rick’s more cynical side. 

He kept his snap judgement to himself, putting on his best civil demeanor despite his own misgivings that this guy might be one of those people who treated servers as subhuman.

“Hi, I’m Rick, I’ll be taking care of you,” he greeted the other man, setting out the bread and filling his water glass for him. The guy had been engrossed in his phone until he saw Rick approach, locking it and setting it down to actually look Rick in the eyes when he approached. That was a good sign at least, most of the businessmen he served seeming more annoyed that he’d dare interrupt them by trying to serve them when they were obviously so very busy and important.

“Well. Hey, Rick. I’m Negan,” the man responded, giving Rick a decidedly shark-like smile. Rick smiled back instinctively, despite the fact that Negan’s smile seemed tailor made to make him immediately uneasy.

“What can I get you to drink?” Rick asked, hoping to just get through this and hide in the back until he absolutely had to come back to check on him.

“What do you recommend?” Negan asked, still wearing that damned unreadable smile. Rick wasn’t entirely used to being asked his opinion in this line of work, so it took him a moment before he could answer.

“I, well, are you a scotch man?” Rick asked, cursing his awkward delivery that sounded too much like a bad come on. Negan grinned impossibly wider, nodding and seeming utterly engrossed in everything Rick was saying. What was this guy’s deal? Was he sizing him up, needing to assert his power and status by making waiters sweat? Or maybe he was planning to stalk and murder him? Rick buried his police paranoia just as soon as it surfaced in his mind, knowing the guy was just asking about a drink and probably wasn’t planning murder at that exact moment.

“Well, we have a Lagavulin 16 that’s pretty popular,” Rick replied weakly, wondering how exactly this guy threw him off so effortlessly.

“I don’t care what’s popular, I want to know what you like,” Negan replied, his stern delivery contradicting the interest he seemed to have in exactly what Rick’s opinions were. What the hell was this guy’s game?

“I do. Like it, I mean,” Rick fumbled, trying and failing to regain some footing in this conversation and get back at least some semblance of his dignity.

“Great. I’ll have that, then. I take it neat. Thanks a heap, Rick,” Negan replied, drawing out Rick’s name like he just adored the taste of it on his tongue. His tongue that was currently sticking out between his teeth as he eyed Rick with that damned indecipherable glint in his eyes.

“Sure, of course, I’ll be right back with that,” Rick answered, relying on his prepared waiter responses to help get him through, even though this guy seemed determined to keep him on his toes. Rick nodded in response to nothing in particular before turning quickly on his heel and hastening to the bar to get his drink orders.

“Hey, Rosita,” Rick greeted the bartender, the young woman turning to face him and immediately raising an eyebrow at him.

“Hey,” Rosita replied with an inflection that said she could tell something was amiss. “What’s your deal? You look freaked.”

“What?” Rick asked distractedly, having been looking behind him as though expecting to see Negan following him. When he finally met her gaze again, Rosita was staring at him expectantly, waiting for an explanation. “Oh, sorry. It’s nothing. The guy at 31 is just a bit-” he paused, searching in vain for the right word to describe him, “-I don’t know what you’d call him, actually.” he mused, handing over his drink orders and tapping his fingers idly on the bar.

“What’s wrong with him? Is he harassing you? Giving you psycho killer vibes? What?” Rosita asked, getting together the drinks for Michonne’s table first.

“Need me to intervene?” Shane asked, Rick immediately shaking his head.

“No, nothing like that. I don’t know. He’s just, intense, I guess. I can’t tell if he’s genuinely trying to be nice, or if he’s got some weird superiority complex and is trying to get into my head so he can mess with me. He’s totally throwing me off, I can’t get a read on him,” Rick explained, giving a bemused shake of his head.

“Huh, that’s strange. You usually have everyone figured out thanks to your cop brain,” she commented, Rick nodding in affirmation before continuing on to relay the gist of his interactions with Negan.

“Sounds like a real weirdo,” Rosita replied, glancing down at the drink ticket in her hand and back up to Rick with a quizzical expression. “Lagavulin 16, neat?” she read from the paper, looking at Rick as though he needed to explain the drink order further. 

“That’s your usual.” Shane added, fixing a curious glance on Rick that mirrored Rosita’s.

“Yeah. He asked for a recommendation. So?” Rick asked, feeling an odd sense of anxiety at their questioning it and the way they were both staring at him. Rosita shrugged and shook her head, pouring out the scotch and placing it on his tray.

“Nothing, it’s probably nothing,” Rosita replied enigmatically, a small smirk playing at her features. “Or maybe he took your suggestion because he thinks you’re cute.”

“Jesus Christ,” Shane said through a chuckle, Rick huffing a laugh of his own, shaking his head and picking up his tray full of drinks.

“Yeah, right,” Rick scoffed, the very idea sounding utterly ridiculous. “Thanks for the drinks,” he added, moving back to the dining room to drop off his drinks, Rosita chuckling and sharing a knowing glance with Shane.

“That guy is definitely flirting with him,” Shane remarked, taking a thoughtful drink of his scotch.

“Oh, yeah. Definitely,” Rosita answered, watching Rick’s retreating back.

“And Rick doesn’t have a fuckin’ clue.”

“Not a damn one. Men are idiots.”

“You’ll hear no argument from me, sister.” Shane retorted, the two of them sharing an amused glance as they waited for more developments in the sad story of Rick’s complete obliviousness.

The man in question dropped off the drinks to Michonne’s table first, taking their lunch orders and making friendly conversation with her and her family in the hope of putting off visiting Negan’s table again. He put it off as long as he could, finally bidding them a reluctant goodbye and going to visit Negan’s table.

“Your Lagavulin neat,” Rick said with a forced geniality as he set the drink in front of him. Negan again looked up from his phone with that same knowing grin like he knew something Rick didn’t.

“Thanks, Ricky,” Negan drawled, Rick ignoring a jab of irritation at the nickname.

“Are you ready to order?” Rick asked, so ready to get this out of the way and get this guy out of his hair.

“Yeah, one sec,” Negan replied, picking up the scotch and taking a generous drink. He exhaled appreciatively, nodding in satisfaction as he set the glass back down. “Fuckin’ A, Rick. I’m normally a Johnnie Walker man, but this? This is damn good. You’ve got fucking impeccable taste in scotch,” Negan praised, grinning sidelong at Rick who was currently invested in staring blankly at the other man.

“Oh. Uh. Yeah, thanks,” Rick replied lamely, straightening up his posture and going back into waiter mode. “Do you know what you’d like to order, or do you want another recommendation?” he asked, Rick trying to get the jump on this and try to shut down Negan’s penchant for throwing him off. Negan himself was quiet for a moment, just smiling mysteriously at him.

“Yeah, why the hell not. You haven’t steered me wrong yet, go ahead and order me your favorite for all three courses,” Negan answered, grinning up at Rick as he leaned back in his chair to consider him. The way Negan looked at him was making Rick feel like he was under a microscope, like Negan could see right through him. Rick hated him.

Still, he had a job to do, so he nodded and pulled out his notepad, jotting down the order and reading it off to Negan as he did. “Alright then, the parmesan risotto appetizer, chicken piccata entree, and the dark chocolate caramel tart. Will there be anything else?” he asked, the picture of professionalism and someone who was definitely not threatened by the man he was serving.

“Nah. All that sounds great. Thanks,” Negan replied, taking a long sip of his scotch without taking his eyes off Rick. Rick bristled, even Negan looking at him somehow getting under his skin.

“I’ll put that right in,” Rick answered, giving one more ‘I’m your waiter and i have to be nice to you’ smile before taking his leave. He huffed irritably when he was out of earshot, only five minutes into his shift and already ready to pack it in and go home.

Despite how much one of his patrons may be grating on his nerves, Rick was determined to shake it off and not let Negan get to him. At least when he was thinking about how irritating Negan was he wasn’t lost to his own introspection, which he was prone to when he didn’t have enough to occupy his mind.

He went to the computer and put his orders in before made his way back to the kitchen to drop them off there, standing at the window and catching the eye of the head chef, Sasha.

“Hey Sash, I’ve got two risottos, a tuna ceviche and a pancetta crostini, please,” Rick said, hanging the tickets up.

“I’m on it,” Sasha replied, turning around to speak to her brother Tyreese at the other stovetop. “Did you get that, Ty? Another risotto,” she called, going immediately back to what she was working on.

“Got it,” Tyreese replied, giving a thumbs up even as he continued to stir the pan he had going.

“Thank you,” Sasha said, looking back up at Rick with a smile. “How’s it going out there?” she asked, Rick finding himself grateful that she stuck to talking to him about the job.

“Good, good. I know one of my tables. The other one is a bit of a pain, but it’ll be fine. How about back here?”

“Surviving somehow, like usual,” Sasha answered, glancing down to chop up some vegetables with blinding speed and impeccable control. “What’d the table do to you? Do they think your name is ‘hey, you’, or what?”

“No, just giving me a weird vibe, I’m not sure what his deal is,” he shrugged, “I’ll be sure to fill you in if there’s any drama.”

“Good, we need any taste of the outside world we can get while we’re stuck back here,” Sasha replied, Rick smiling and giving a nod before bidding them goodbye to go back to the hostess stand so he could see if he had new tables to seat.

He crossed the dining room, smiling at Michonne’s table and making the mistake of sparing a glance at Negan. Just as soon as Rick looked at him, Negan broke into a vulpine grin, raising his scotch glass and winking at him. Rick smiled reflexively back, moving a bit quicker to reach the hostess stand and savor any moment he wasn’t in Negan’s line of sight.


End file.
